If There is Light
by suncityblues
Summary: For the Shizaya secret santa thing over on LJ, I know it's extremely late...   Three scenes between Izaya and Shizuo, three parts of the same thing. If there is light, it will find you.


**Title**: If There is Light  
**Fandom**: Durarara!  
**Characters**: Shizuo & Izaya ; Shinra, Naime, mentions of Tom and Vorona  
**Word Count**: ~4000  
**Rating**: sort of work-safe, nothing particularly graphic.  
**Summary**:  
For rosederwuste's extremely late secret santa over from the Shizaya community on live journal.  
Three scenes between Izaya and Shizuo, three parts of the same thing. If there is light, it will find you.

* * *

If There is Light

i.  
"I saw you" Izaya says as he pulls off his shirt, words muffled by the layers of fabric and the layers of something else entirely.

He's strange on these sorts of nights. Like himself, but not, talking to him now is like trying to make a call and getting the busy signal most of the time.

(the lights are on but nobody's home).

"Hn" is Shizuo's reply. He doesn't know what Izaya is talking about and his drunken fumbling hands are having a hard time with the buttons on his dress shirt.

"At that bar" Izaya adds as though this demystifies everything.

And, in a way, it does. Shizuo clearly understands now why his oldest friend looked so cowed when they ran into each other at the pub. What Shinra's frantic hand gestures and grave warnings that the toilets were filled with noxious gasses and he should absolutely, positively, under every possible circumstance stay away from that side of the establishment, no matter what, were actually about.

He feels like an idiot, and for not the first time in his life.

"...Hn" is his curt response to Izaya, though, belying none of his underlying thoughts; still busy with his clothes. There is so much of it and what feels like so little time to get it off.

"You were with that blonde russian girl" Izaya continues nonplused. Shizuo knows he knows Vorona's name but says nothing, and it's almost as though they are having a casual conversation (or as casual as their conversations can be) and not frantically removing their clothing in front of each other. Then a beat; almost thoughtful, "...are you with her now?"

Shizuo raises an eyebrow, not sure if that was a real question or just something to goad him into a fight. He chooses to ignore the words entirely since, either way, they piss him off. And there are other things to do at the moment.

...And if Izaya supposedly knows so much about people then why is he always so wrong when it comes to him?

With a snort, more at the circumstances of his life, how he got here, how Izaya got here, how anything ever gets anywhere, than a particular something in the room, Shizuo throws the other man onto the bed with more force than would ever be necessary. Nudges aside thin willing legs and finds his place between them.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't miss this.

(izaya's skin is so warm and that is what he remembers, what he holds on to).

And it's obscene how well they fit together, like puzzle pieces; like two people who have known each other for far too long.

(the way Izaya bites his bottom lip when he's trying not to laugh).

In the morning after or maybe it's still the night, he wakes up to see the small man fumbling with his pants in the half-darkness.

He's never seen Izaya asleep. Not once. They've fucked each other more times than he can count but they've never actually slept together.  
It kind of unnerves him.

Izaya looks up, sheepish almost, if it wasn't for the fact that Izaya is Izaya and therefore incapable of showing basic human emotions.

Hesitation, fear, sadness, happiness, affection.

Shizuo hasn't seen any of it, not really. All he sees are facsimiles of these things, like he's mimicking the people around him instead of truly feeling things as they do.

(a mirror of a mirror of a mirror).

The closest he's ever noticed Izaya get to a real feeling is that faraway look he sometimes wears when he thinks no one's looking or how every so often after they fuck he'll look up at Shizuo with the strangest expression. It's not love or affection but it's not hate or disgust either. No one's ever looked at Shizuo like that, like a deer in the headlights and happy about it, about being hit, or like he's only just realized who he's with. And usually this is the point where they kiss again, Shizuo's never seen that expression to an end, never seen it falter, and he doesn't think he can bear to, to see it go away. He doesn't know why, just knows that he likes it; that it _means something_ even if he's not sure what exactly.

And, honestly, there's not a lot to like about the flea; so this is a monumental thing between them.

(that neither would ever recognize).

And it is that very expression which appears on Izaya's face when he sees Shizuo get up, still naked, uncaring about the nudity or the scars and the scrapes littered on his body. Feels Shizuo grip his thin waist in a way that can't be anything but violent. The look is there and it is brilliant.

"Come back to bed" Shizuo mumbles into Izaya's air, too close to really mean anything dangerous but still it sounds more like a command than anything else. Possibly even a warning. Even in their kindest moments they're still hostile to each other.

Izaya doesn't say anything, he looks exasperatedly over Shizuo's shoulder at the place where his shirt lays crumpled and neglected; then back to the gold-brown eyes in front of him. With a condescending half-smile that seems more fake than usual his hands go back to his pants, unfastening them for the second or maybe third time that night.

They are not drunk anymore and Izaya is so small and he is shaking just a bit, just enough to be noticable. Shizuo knows something is wrong, knows it, but he can't remember why because then they are kissing, like they always do, mouths on mouths and tongues and hands and skin, unbelievably warm and inviting in ways their minds can never be.

(there is enough light filtering in from the street below for what they need it for).

And when it's over, Shizuo knows it.  
Knows it's really over, not just the interim period between fucks. Izaya is going to go home soon. And somehow, inexplicably, the debt-collector is sorry to see him leave.

He tells himself he's just tired, bordering on hung-over, delirious, but he knows, knows that it's because he's sick of waking up alone even if the other option is waking up next to the person he says hates the most.

Shizuo would not consider himself a lonely person but maybe that's exactly what he is.  
Izaya manages to buckle his pants without interruption this time and ends up leaving without his underwear.

This is not an unfamiliar scene.

_(I sit and listen to them  
singing.  
I sit and listen to them)._

ii.  
It's been four and a half months since they had seen each other last.

Izaya simply disappeared one day, as he's prone to do. Sometimes Shizuo will see him every day for a week and then not at all for huge stretches of time after that, seemingly at random. Everything Izaya does is seemingly at random.

Shizuo's not sure what he's doing now, maybe he's hiding from one organization he's infuriated or another, if it's the police or the yakuza or his little sisters it's all the same really: just proof Izaya should stop being a prick and get a real job. Like a real person. Like someone who will live to see age thirty.

Or perhaps he's just taking a break now, evil on holiday and things like that. But the most probable reason is that the informant is simply avoiding him. It's not hard to avoid Shizuo as long as he stays out of Ikebukuro.  
He won't be looked for, that's certain.

Because Shizuo doesn't mind, not really.

(not anymore).

He has grown a sort of zen detachment to the whole thing over time. At first it infuriated him that Izaya thought he could just up and leave whenever the mood struck him and so Shizuo would storm over to Shinjuku and they'd fight and fuck and fight some more. But Izaya got too much of a kick out of it, Shizuo realized roughly five times too late. It was as though he was confirming how much Shizuo needed him or how easily he could be baited. And so Tom, the only person outside of Shizuo, Izaya, and possibly Namie to know about the whole sordid relationship suggested an alternative strategy. And it worked, in some ways.

(just, stay away from him. just stay away).

And so he simply got a little better at a bad game.

He has his own life, his own desires, and this time, this time he refuses to be the first one to give in to them. With the added bonus of how annoyed it makes Izaya, it's even worth the too-long speech about how Shizuo is a monster and unpredictable and so on and so on -he never listens much after that point.

But mostly, he's just sick of giving in when it comes to all things Orihara Izaya.

Their whole relationship, if it could even be called that, is a series of giving up and giving in; giving and taking and throwing away. They rip the clothes and the skin from each other until there's nothing left and even then they want more. To bite and tear and bleed out onto the pavement, the sheets, to end and to begin again. They've never been tender and they've never been loved, not really, not the way the want to be. They are not soft people.

(two small planets that orbit each other but never touch).

Four and a half months and Izaya is at the doorstep to his tiny studio apartment, shaking.

Shizuo doesn't mention it.

It is three in three morning.

He's not wearing that ridiculous jacket which immediately sends out a warning signal in Shizuo's brain. Something is wrong, something is wrong, something is wrong but Izaya, he just smiles bitterly, mockingly, and says, "Shiiiizu-chan," he drags the word through his teeth like it hurt; like he wanted it to hurt, "you can either let me inside or shut the door, but standing there and gaping like a stupid monkey is really starting to be annoying."

Though when Shizuo goes to slam the door in Izaya's face as per his suggestion, the slighter of the two had already slipped between one toned arm and the door and thrown himself down onto the lumpy futon-cum-sitting area like he owns the place.

This is a tactic which never fails to annoy Shizuo.

(a breath of old times, of normalcy).

It doesn't work immediately this time though, because under the yellowish light of his lamp Shizuo can see just how shitty Izaya looks. And he wouldn't say it didn't distract him.

A few scrapes, vertical mainly, along the side of his face, like he fell against pavement. Bruises, everywhere, some bright red and some purple-brown along his exposed skin and one suspiciously hand shaped around his neck.

It is that hand-shaped one that makes Shizuo begin to grope around his pockets for a cigarette, to calm his nerves, to stop himself from punching Izaya over and over again until he told him who did it.

That is not a very good method he realizes, but it's the only one he knows. He is not the informant, after all; he can't glance at someone and know who and how and what and why, no problem. He can just use his hands and use his heart and that works well enough for the most part.

(because,  
who did it?  
who did it?)

What he would do with that information, Shizuo refuses to think about. He just wants to know.

"You look like shit, Flea" he mutters more to the stains on the ceiling than to the other man, "and get the fuck off my futon."

Izaya visibly twitches, wether in anger or something else, Shizuo cannot tell. Does not care about.

"You know, you neanderthal," a sharp breath, like he's trying to keep himself from snapping, then a change of tone: "there's really no need to say hurtful things just to hide the fact that you're jealous of my undeniable good looks~." Despite his words Izaya is puffed up like a cat with it's hair on end, ready to protect himself if need be, putting on a false smile that seems more like a challenge, looking more or less like he regretted coming, didn't know why he was here at all, then, "So, you going to fuck me or what?"

Shizuo ignores the speech as he lights his newly located cigarette. It's too early to listen to this shit and he has work in the morning.

He smokes the cigarette down to the orange filter, basking in the annoyed glare from the other side of the futon. He is dragging this out for as long as he can as a sort of punishment and they both know it. A punishment for what, he's not entirely sure of, though. There are so many things Izaya deserves to be punished for but Shizuo cannot help but zone in on the little red bumps, the hand print, the scrape. He doesn't want to know what happened, he almost needs to. And he's bitter because most likely he never will get to find out.

And so they fuck and they do not remember all the things they want to say, at least for a little while.

This is not an unfamiliar scene.

_(if there is light  
it will find  
you)._

iii.  
He is standing suspended on the edge of a building in Shinjuku motionless except for the wind in his hair, his jacket.

It is too cold to be standing outside for no reason, and this fact stands out against almost everything else.

Shizuo does not know how long Izaya had been there or how long he stood rooted to the spot, roughly twenty feet away, watching. A long time, maybe. There is a swelling feeling in the blond man's stomach, it twists and knots and reminds him of the overwhelming feeling that Izaya is impossible to understand. Not by anyone, least of all by him.

The feeling that there will always be something missing.  
And how unfair is that?  
Shizuo has always, always had everything laid out on the table for the world to see but Izaya is just the opposite. He holds everything to his chest until it's pried away by force or left out by accident.

(a lifetime of lying for no reason).

And when he finally turns around, off the ledge and onto the safe cement of the rooftop he seems almost surprised to see Shizuo there but hides it well, if it weren't for his eyes.

He opens his mouth to say something undoubtably cruel but Shizuo is already there, a well aimed punch which cracks the pavement and would have caused harm to most people. But Izaya is not most people; never was.

And so they fight.

Across rooftops, along alleyways, they fight, they goad and incite and aim for where it hurts because they both know they are painfully immortal at times like these. Izaya never trips, never falters, never gives in, even if he wants to, even if he's tired. Shizuo is the same, his aim is perfect if only Izaya was a bit slower, but he never loses the other man, never sees his back disappear and not reappear again moments later.

And then they are against a wall, breathing hard, panting, remembering just how much they hate each other.

Just how much they like each other.

Remembering that something is fundamentally wrong with them. That everything is fundamentally wrong.

(incorrect; made for someone else).

Izaya is doing that thing again. Smiling without really smiling. Empty masks come to mind with open pits where the eyes should be.

Shizuo has him by the shirt, spies more purple brown marks, more soft red ones, but no hand-print collar this time. Izaya had been avoiding him again and Shizuo wonders vaguely if maybe he'd found a new fuck toy, a new idiot to get him off, and before his brain can process anything else he punches the air where Izaya's head used to be with his free hand. Clever boy that he is though, Izaya slipped downward at the last moment to avoid what would undeniably have killed him. And Shizuo is wondering what he would have done if Izaya hadn't dodged. If instead of a sneering face there was just a cavern, crushed skull, blood everywhere. Death so apparent on his hands. The dull horror he feels is why he needs to control his anger, he knows, he knows, he knows.

(it's just a matter of time).

Though he is still attached to Shizuo by the shirt as it would be almost impossible to get out of it from this angle, Izaya smirks up at him like this is all something created just to amuse him, completely uninterested in Shizuo's inner turmoil.

"Ohhh Shizu-chan" he chides from his place suspended above the ground, "it's touching and all, how you greet me with so much... passion," a wink, the theatrics make Shizuo want to kick him in the face, "but dripping blood all over the place is not such a great idea, you know?" A change of subject, an attempt at gauging the debt collectors mood.

It's true, Shizuo realizes now that his hand is covered in blood. It doesn't hurt but still he figures the bits of broken brick and tiny rocks stuck in there could probably cause problems. He hoists Izaya back up, not unaroused by the show of white stomach meeting hips meeting jet black pants, dipping low with an unbuckled belt. It had been a while, after all, but Shizuo contains himself. After all there's no guarantee about anything and there is a difference between fucking someone and raping them.

(he has his honor, most of the time).

Izaya doesn't seem to notice the show of lust right away, more concerned with prying the large tanned hand from the front of his shirt. But when he does it makes him do a double-take. He smiles coyly, and it almost, almost reaches his eyes.

Shizuo can tell he's about to reach up into the head of blond hair in front of him and coax them into a kiss, and in the same moment realizes that's not what he wants, not like this anyway.

(not if there's someone else, he's not that kind of person).

Shizuo backs up and pushes the smaller one away into the wall. The glare he receives could probably be seen from space but he doesn't even notice.

"Well if you're not here for this, then why the hell did you come to Shin-" Izaya starts but it cut off by Shizuo stating, "You have a first-aid kit at your place," leaving no room for questions or comments, then walking off in the direction of Izaya's abode as though it was completely natural to him.

If it was possible to hurt someone with a look then he might have actually felt pain for the first time in years judging by the glower Izaya was shooting him. But instead it just makes Shizuo smile to himself.

(smiles can mean a lot of things).

"...And what makes you think I'm going to let you in?" Izaya asks, as he falls in step next to the debt collector, he's doing that cat thing again, with its hair all on end.  
Shizuo, feeling oddly serene and cemented in his resolve, replies, "because that way you won't have to pay for a new door, you louse."

Izaya doesn't say anything after that, though Shizuo realizes it's more of him giving him the silent treatment and less of him not having any biting retorts. He is still very much a child, no matter what and it would be kind of cute if the debt collector didn't find it so annoying.

(they're both still very much children).

When Namie sees them enter Izaya gives her a fearsome look as she tartly remarks, "You should have told me there was someone else coming for dinner, I would have made more food..."

By now Shizuo knows the layout of Izaya's place well enough to get around and he closes the door to the private section of the apartment to the sound of him snapping out, "Ohhhh so glad I can entertain you, Namie-_chan_ maybe I should start paying you in laughs from now on..."

Her reply is muffled but Shizuo does not need to hear the words to know they'll be bickering for at least the next five minutes. Then Izaya will send her home and probably end up paying her for the time she missed anyway.

(it is what usually happens).

Shizuo puts them out of his mind and begins shuffling though the bathroom, instead. The set-up is nothing like his own spartan place; Izaya's is big and full of stuff, cabinets and drawers and a separate shower next to the tub. A full length mirror with a post-it note in the middle written in what Shizuo assumes is Russian, probably to remind him of a meeting or something along those lines. In the mirror-cabinet above the sink is where he goes to look for the first-aid kit and he finds it wedged between a sea of medicine bottles prescribed to people with names that are not Orihara Izaya.

He wonders vaguely if Shinra helped Izaya get all of them but decides that's a thought for another time.

Instead he washes the dirt and blood from his knuckles and sits on the edge of the tub sloppily wrapping his wound in a bandage. In the mirror he can see Izaya has come in and leaned against the doorway with an unreadable expression. Or at least unreadable to Shizuo, as almost all of Izaya's expressions are. The blond man ignores him for a while longer until Izaya finally lets out an audible sigh and catches his eye in the mirror. With the look of a martyr about to go to their death, Izaya takes Shizuo's hands in his own and proceeds to rewrap the bandage in sullen silence.

(for someone so cold he feels so warm).

"You really are useless, Shizu-chan..." Izaya chides in his sing-song voice after a few moments and Shizuo doesn't even mind because of the odd feeling making itself known in the pit his stomach. He is overcome with the urge to kiss Izaya but holds himself back again. He's still too angry; Izaya's still Izaya.

When the hand is successfully wrapped they sit and stare at each other.

(they are always staring at each other).

Shizuo has a million things he wants to ask but Izaya has just one, and he gets there first.

"Why haven't you kissed me yet?"

It's a straightforward question, there's no uncertainty in Izaya's demeanor or his eyes, but more of a challenging look. It could be anger if Shizuo squints. The question and the way it was asked -straight to the point, no hesitation whatsoever- bothers Shizuo. Izaya should know _exactly_ why and not act so guiltless.

What he replies with, however, could probably have been worded better, but Shizuo is bordering on furious and all he wants to do is punch something. He takes his unbandaged hand and moves Izaya's shirt out of the way to expose a dull red mark on his chest, he can feel the other's heartbeat quicken at the touch. And he almost, almost decides not to say anything after all but to words tumble out before he can get lost in the muck that is his own empathy, "haven't you been kissed enough lately, flea?"

This makes Izaya gape first, then punch him in the chest even though he knows it hurt him more than Shizuo, and lastly storm out of the room. It's true though, what Shizuo said, what he knows, and he also knows he will not be just another person who gives Izaya what he wants all the time.

(he will not, he will not, he will not).

Shizuo sits there on the side of the tub for a while and lets himself stew, this is a different kind of anger than he's used to. It's not a sudden burst of fury but instead this spreads out, builds up, pushes itself together and pulls itself apart with a thought. It gives Shizuo a headache and a stomach ache so he decides to find Izaya. He's not even sure why, he knows he should probably just leave or break it off officially and without question but he doesn't plan to do either.

(that would be the end of the world, maybe).

He wanders into Izaya's bare bedroom (white walls, white blankets, no pictures on the walls or tables or anywhere at all) and finds the dark haired man staring out at the city, his back to the door. Sits down next to him.

They are quiet again for a long stretch of time.  
Then: "why are you still here?"

It's cutting and acerbic but Shizuo doesn't mind, he's all too used to Izaya being cutting and acerbic. Instead of replying Shizuo just watches the traffic move on the street below. A river of sorts. He could sit here all night, he realizes, it's strangely tranquil being here like this, being so angry that he can't even feel it anymore.

(this is the longest time they've ever been around each other without fighting or fucking).

Another long pause until Izaya speaks again, "it's not what you think, you know." But it is exactly what Shizuo thinks, "it was the only way."

Shizuo's not entirely sure what Izaya is talking about anymore and maybe Izaya doesn't know either. He talks himself into a circle, tells Shizuo all sorts of things he didn't want to know, says things he didn't want to say and stops making sense about halfway through.

He talks for ages because it's all he can do, he loves to talk, to hear his own voice, and it is even and soft almost, he's shaking again and Shizuo finds himself holding Izaya by the waist, with their bodies pressed together. And later with a few bottles of wine, some empty; some unopened, spread out on the floor around them, staining the white carpet, the white sheets with their rings but neither of them care, not now, maybe in the morning, what is important is that they stay together.

And it hurts almost to think about all the things Izaya does for his stupid job, his stupid life.

They are watching the late night traffic turn into the early morning traffic and holding each other. They have no idea how it turned out this way but neither of them have the heart to ruin it; maybe later they will call it an off day and pretend it never happened.

(life is like that sometimes).

And a while later, when Shizuo's eyes are starting to get too droopy and he goes to lay down on the bed he realizes Izaya is sound asleep against his side. There is that strange feeling in his stomach again when he sees the informant's sleeping face and it could be the exhaustion but there is nothing more beautiful he could think of in that moment.

In a startling moment of absolute clarity, he realizes that this moment is special.

So he kisses Izaya's forehead, coaxes him under the covers, and lays there with this strange beautiful creature in his arms.

When he sleeps he dreams of daisies.

This is not a familiar scene.  
_  
(the strongest men are the fewest  
and the strongest women die alone  
too).  
_

* * *

So I left some of the specifics out because I wanted to leave it up in the air, but I do hope you liked it!

All of the end bits are taken from Bukowski poems.

As always if you notice any mistakes please point them out~~

PS. this might make me sound stupid(er) but does anyone know how to go back and edit stories on here without deleting the chapter/making a new one? Augh, sorry if this is a dumb question or something... ;u;

&&Sorry I haven't been around much but with school and being stupid and my broken internet (I had to take a 20 minute metro ride to my school just so I could use the internet now) it's really become a pain to get things done. Anyway, hopefully this kind of makes up for it since it's a bit longer than normal for me.

But so then anyway:

if it's not too much to ask could you give me some feedback? Ahh you know I'd love you forever. *u*


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